


Scar Tissue

by Lafeae



Series: Puppyshipping [9]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: The thing about being naked is that there isn’t much one can hide.And Joey stumbles across one of Seto’s old scars.





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an exercise in how Joey perceives Kaiba while they go at it and then just sorta...blossomed outwards. The topic of abuse would come up between them eventually.
> 
> Edit: posted the wrong draft...never done that before. Not much change, just cleaned up.

Joey hadn’t thought much of the uneven skin on the back of Seto’s neck when his palm first rubbed against it.

The sex had been too intense, too passionately rough, but agonisingly tender, for him to really think much of anything, other than Seto’s performance. The brunet knew what he was doing in bed to leave them both pleased, to leave Joey’s cheeks aflame, heart still hammering, heavy, against his ribs. To leave his lips bruised and begging for more quick nips that trailed to his neck and sunk in, suckling by the collar bone until a small reddened bud appeared, threatening to bloom.

They had left the sheets sweat-laden, sticky and war-torn, remnants of a battle lost when Joey demanded to lead and they tussled until he was pinned against the headboard. Possessive hands kneaded tight into Joey’s shoulders as Seto shook his head, almost angry that Joey had demanded something so ludicrous. Seto was the leader, and assumed his dominance with his sharp love bites, earning him a fresh set of scratch marks on his shoulder blade from a surprised Joey, who had little choice but to give his rapt attention to the pale physique he laid under.

Joey willingly submitted, expecting a show, biting his tongue while being punished for his attempted dominance with the too slow thrusts, unwilling to complain about it for the fear of Seto making his ascent into orgasm even more antagonised and slow.

It gave Joey more time to admire every naked and exposed pore of his not-boyfriend (lover? What were they now?). He concluded that Seto wasn’t pretty—not conventionally. He was all angle. From his cheeks, to his shoulders, down to the odd jut in his hips as he gyrated, rhythmic and slow. He was free of blemish and almost as perfect as Joey had once claimed, at least as far as Joey’s hands has sought out, but he was also...normal. Fleshy and warm. Human.

Which meant that, while may not have thought Seto was as ‘pretty’, everything that formed him was beautiful. He was everything that Joey liked to stare at, especially his captivating and imperious eyes. Seto was everything that Joey wanted to touch, grovel, and hold. Especially when Seto’s face burst into an state somewhere between victorious and satisfied when the blond finally came.

Joey adjusted himself about, writhing at the hip to give Seto just a little more pleasure. His palm cupped along Joey’s face, stroking his cheek, and as the thumb swept along, pressing against his lips, Joey reached out, flicking it with his tongue, suckling just enough to see Seto’s jaw clench, his eyes open again.

The way Seto looked down at Joey in wonder, his expressions twisted and stretched in ecstasy and bliss made Joey’s heart flutter when it didn’t pound. His knuckles ran along Seto’s cheek, a small chuckle tickling his chest because it was so damned pleasing to see the executive so content. To see a small but fervent grin never leave Seto’s face. It was also admirable, for Joey, to know that he was the cause of this. That Seto had allowed him this level of trust, this level of compassion, and this level of soft-hearted vulnerability. The sort of person that people said Seto just wasn’t capable of—too cold-hearted, starch-pressed, robotic. 

Seto pulled away, untangling his legs from Joey’s and rolling over onto his side, facing away from the blond while his hand reached around to touch the edges of the scratch marks Joey had bestowed upon him. In the low light of the room, they glowed.

“Heh...you uh...gotta a bit of a problem there,” Joey said, sheepish. He hadn’t really thought he had dug so deep.

“Yes, I do. It’s name is Joey Wheeler and it owes me an apology.”

“Oh, well then, let me think...”

“Not too hard.”

“Nah, ain’t much of my brain left at that moment,” Joey said. A smug ‘hmph’ was heard from Seto as Joey shuffled over on his knees and latched his arms around Seto’s waist. It may not have been how he imagined cuddling Seto, but then, it hadn’t been so long ago that he would have laughed at that very same idea. “How ‘bout I kiss it better?” Joey whispered into Seto’s ear.

Joey didn’t give Seto a choice, lowering himself to press his lips against the warmed welts he’s left behind. But they didn’t stay there long, moving upwards, first against Seto’s shoulder, and then smaller, lighter pecks up against the crook of Seto’s neck. He even leaned off to the side to give Joey more room to work, leaving a trail up the the jugular. Shifting around, changing his space, Joey began to duck down, going along the back of Seto’s neck until his nose was tickled by the longer hairs. His lips touched something strange, and they puckered around more welted skin, and he pulled back to see what he had run into, unaware that it was the same distorted skin he’d unknowingly palmed earlier.

“Hey, I think I got ya in more than one place I—“ Joey stopped and stared. He didn’t even see Seto flinch. Thin, straight, whitened lines were stacked atop each other across the back of Seto’s nape. They disappeared with the hairs that curled back into place. “Woah, what’re these?”

Before Joey could get a closer look at the marks, Seto pulled away and walked to the bathroom. The blond followed, grabbing the door before it slammed in his face. He caught a glimpse of Seto in the crack, though he was turned away.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re takin’ a shower right? I’m folliowin’ ya. I’m a mess too, ya know. You uh, ya got all over me,” Joey laughed.

It certainly had nothing to do with his curiosity about the scars. Nope. Not a chance.

The door was pressed closed, Joey’s fingers moved out of the way just in time. He flattened his palms on the door.

“Seto? I’m not worried ‘bout the—,”

“Go away.”

“We can clean up together,” Joey said. “Ya know. You. Me. The bathtub?”

A sigh floated through the cracks. Joey’s forehead rested on the door. After such a good night, it didn’t surprise him that he’d screwed up somewhere. It was better to face that head on. “I didn’t mean t’ get into somethin’ touchy if I did. I didn’t know ya had any scars I was jus’ tryin’ t’—,”

Water began hissing, loud enough that Joey guessed it was the tub. Loud enough that he could tell Seto was tuning him out. His hand turned at the knob, surprised that it hadn’t been locked. A shake of the head, and Joey hip checked the door as he burst through it, figuring there wasn’t much point in going in half-assed.

“Joey!”

If Seto planned on telling him off for entering the bathroom, he wasn’t listening. Instead, Joey pulled his foot up and grabbed it between both hands, trying to display it to where Seto stood, now dressed in a navy blue bathrobe that hung loose on his angled form.

Joey wasn’t as prepared for his own wobbling, not knowing that Seto wasn’t even turned look at him as he entered, but was catching glimpses of the action through the mirror.

Joey hopped over to the toilet, collapsing onto it. His foot dropped out of his hands, slapping the tile floor, before he yanked it back up again, crossing it over his knee and sticking it out the sole, hoping Seto would figure it out.

Seto’s scowl deepened. “What, get a splinter in your foot kicking the door in?”

“I din’t kick the door!” Joey retorted. “Look.”

Seto shook his head. “Get out.”

“Not until ya look at my foot.”

The room was steaming from the warmed bath water that lapped against the edges of the claw-foot tub. Seto braced himself at the sink, fingers raking through his hair, when Joey had burst in. His head lulled to his shoulder, looking Joey over as he extended the sole of his foot to be stared at.

“If this is some fetish of yours, I’m not interested,” Seto deadpanned.

“What? No! I’m askin’ ya t’look at my foot, not...whateverin’ with it. Geez...”

Seto curled his nose in contempt, but walked closer, inspecting as Joey pulled back at his toes until they turned white. The pad of the foot seemed normal, but he could see the remnants of a deepened cut, scarred over, that ran along the arch. Dotted speckles, mottled skin, peppered around it.

Seto’s sneer fell away to an impassive, knowing face, mouth flinching, meeting Joey’s eye for half of a second before turning away. “From one of your old brawls, I’m sure.”

Joey’s body fell into slack. “Ya really think that, or ya jus’ sayin’ it?”

The faucet of the tub was twisted off before Seto returned to the sink. Silence fell between them, just enough to feel like there needed to be noise beyond the drip of water from the faucet. It was finding the right approach, Joey knew. Seto was too smart for his own good; his question was just a vague hope.

“Booze bottle shards on the kitchen floor. I came home, it was dark, an’ stepped right on them,” Joey said. “My Dad was a mean drunk. Blacked out, did stuff he said he din’t mean. I got a lot o’ knicks and cuts from places other than him, but this...is prolly the only one I can say he actually caused. Physically.”

“Joseph...”

“I’ve been through some shit, Seto. An’ I can guess, from that scar, an’ from some of the things that Mokuba’s said ‘bout Gozaburo, that maybe you went through some shit, too.”

“I’d rather be talking about your sudden foot fetish,” Seto replied, deflecting. Sarcasm, flourished with anger.

Joey rolled his eyes. Defensive didn’t suit Seto, even though his topic of sarcasm was entertaining. This was vulnerability, only visible through enough trust and weakened by sex. “Look, I know it ain’t something’ that ya jus’ talk about. We don’t gotta talk about it at all, ever. All I’m sayin’ is that, to me, it’s jus’ skin,” Joey assured.

One of Seto’s hands slipped off the countertop and clenched into a fist at his side before releasing. Standing, padding up slow as not to provoke the dragon, Joey wrapped his arm’s around Seto’s waist and hooked his chin on on the crook of his shoulder.

All temptation was resisted to looking at the scars, no matter how much curiosity there was. The hairs had already curled back into place, hiding the evidence. The longer Joey thought about it, the more he came to understand Seto’s taste for a tall, fully-buttoned dress shirts, popped collars, or turtle necks.

“It was a collar,” Seto whispered.

Joey’s eyes slicked up to the mirror, catching Seto gazing at himself, seemingly confused at his own words. That’s what Joey judged, by the way Seto’s lips were wetted and parted. “Hm?”

“Sometimes I was made to wear a collar,” Seto said, steeling his voice. “For motivation. Control. What-have-you and...” a brief, considering pause, “sometimes it was too tight.”

Joey began imagining some kind of choker around Seto’s neck, something like he saw Téa or Atem wear. With his prior penchant for belts incorporated into his wardrobe, Joey could almost seem him donning it. Until he considered what kind of collar a child could be forced to wear.

As Joey’s grip around Seto’s waist slackened, prepared to pull away and give his lover space, he felt a tug on his wrists. He was held in place, tight and firm, by Seto’s demand. 

Joey expected some kind of aggression as he felt the vice grip, and tried to look Seto in the eye through the mirror.

But Seto wasn’t looking back. His confused face had been replaced by something else. His head was bowed, and he frowned, almost upset but not quite. When his eyes flicked upwards to meet Joey’s, he could hear the words ‘look at me’ without them being said. They demanded, in their very presumptuous nature, for Joey to see his shame.

Shame.

Seto didn’t do shame, Joey thought. But then again, Joey hadn’t thought Seto did coffee dates, or movies, or weekly dinners, or sensual, teasing, tender sex. That he had said anything at all was a testament to their time spent together.

Joey smiled. “Thank you.”

Seto’s head raised. “What?”

“Thank you, for, ya know, tellin’ me,” Joey said, kissing the side of Seto’s neck. Before Seto could say anything, he asked: “So, since ya filled the tub, that mean we’re gettin’ in it?”

It was time to move on. Back to what they had started the evening with.

Seto’s hand released from Joey’s wrists, and he began to peel back to the robe, though Joey had already grabbed the sash and ripped the rest of it off with something like a squeal of triumph before backing up into the tub, almost falling into it.

“You have a problem,” Seto said, his brow arching as Joey slipped into the tub, splashing water onto the floor.

“Yep. It’s name is Seto Kaiba an’ I still owe it an apology.”

“Mm, you do, don’t you?” Seto said, approaching the tub but not entering. Joey looked up, pleased to see his lover’s confident smugness returned. There would be plenty more time to talk in the future.

Right now, he just needed to cuddle up to Seto in the bathtub.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what ya think! Hope you enjoyed,


End file.
